Sermons from Park Hill Congregational UCCDenver, ColoradoRev. Dr. David Bahrpastor@parkhillchurch.orgJune 5, 2016“Allies and ‘The Other’”Psalm 15 – Common English Bible“Who can live in your tent, Lord? Who can dwell on your holy mountain?2 The person who lives free of blame, does what is right, and speaks the truth sincerely;3 who does no damage with their talk, does no harm to a friend, doesn’t insult a neighbor;4 someone who despises those who act wickedly, but who honors those who honor the Lord; someone who keeps their promise even when it hurts;5 someone who doesn’t lend money with interest, who won’t accept a bribe against any innocent person.Whoever does these things will never stumble.[1]Once, long ago in a distant land, a prince was riding through a deep forest far from his home with his company of soldiers, looking for new lands to conquer. Quite suddenly he came upon a clearing in the trees and there before him stretched a meadow leading up a hill. The meadow and hill were gloriously covered with wildflowers and blossoming trees. But even more stunning, at the top of the hill was a castle that seemed to be made of pure gold. It sparkled so brightly in the sun, the prince was nearly blinded.Fascinated and curious, the prince signaled to his regiment and they raced up the hill toward the castle. As they drew near, he saw a face appear through a window – a face that shone more brilliantly than the sun. And then it was gone.Instantly he fell in love. He knocked upon the castle door.“Who is there?” came the most wonderful sounding voice.“It is I, Prince Rindleheart. I am known throughout the land for my bravery. My armies are the strongest. My wealth is vast. Would you like to meet me?”“There’s only room for one of us in here.”The prince rode away in shock. “Obviously, I’m going to have to do something even more impressive.” So he traveled through seven kingdoms, fighting dragons, escaping dungeons, taking land. Everywhere he went he was proclaimed a hero. And yet, the only thing he wanted was to meet the stranger behind the window in the castle on the hill covered in glorious wildflowers and blossoming trees.The words “There’s only room for one of us in here” kept ringing in his ears.He sought out the wisdom of a wise woman. “Perhaps your armies are too intimidating.”Of course, he thought. He returned on a single horse to the castle alone and knocked on the door.“Who is there?” spoken in that voice that touched something in his soul.Humbly, this time, he replied, “It is I, the prince, alone.”“There’s only room for one of us in here.”He backed away. Confused. Dejected. He spent the next several years roaming the wilderness, unable to conceive of why he wasn’t invited inside. Along the way he met another wise woman who suggested, “Perhaps the ‘real you’ cannot be known when covered in armor and weapons.” “Of course!” said the prince.So he returned to the hill that was covered in glorious wildflowers and blossoming trees and more thoughtfully climbed toward the castle and its frustratingly impenetrable door. He knocked quietly.The voice replied “Who is there?” Oh, that voice…“It is I, your humble servant. Not a soldier. Just me.”“There’s only room for one of us in here.”He was crushed. He was crippled by dejection. For seven more years he wandered alone in the forest. Eventually he gave up his kingdom, too overcome with grief thinking only of the one whom he had not even yet met.One day while wandering he found himself right there at the bottom of the hill covered in glorious wildflowers and blossoming trees. He slowly walked up the hill toward the castle. No armies. No armor. No more wealth.“Who is there?The prince took a breath. “It is thou.”And the door opened.

Who is there? (boisterously) It is I. (less confidently) It is I? (calmly) It is I. Still not enough? What am I missing? ​(humbly) It is thou.I don’t know if the storyteller meant it, but I can’t help but make a connection to the famous work of the Jewish philosopher Martin Buber. “I and thou.” A little about Buber:[2] he had been deeply involved in the study and practice of mysticism – a mysticism that stressed the surrender of one’s individuality, a loss of self. But he came to reject this, and here’s why.One day in 1914 a young man came to see him, asking for guidance before entering the army. Buber answered all his questions and felt happy about being able to help the young man. But after he left, Buber was troubled. He realized he hadn’t really listened to what lay under the questions the man was asking; questions, in fact, he didn’t even know to ask, let alone, how to ask. The unarticulated were the questions that really troubled the young man. Sadly, the young man died in battle shortly after that.You might think, I would have thought, that the very answer to Buber’s experience would be the surrender of his individuality, his pride, the loss of self in order to truly hear the unarticulated questions of the young man. Rather, his experience led to Buber’s life’s work: that a human being becomes a person in the face of the Other. “No matter whether spoken or silent, there is only genuine dialogue when each of the participants really has in the mind the other or others in their present and particular beings and turns to them with the intention of establishing a living mutual relation between him or herself and them.”[3]Or more simply, we don’t become human beings by giving up our self. Then we have no way to relate.But relating to the Other happens not just as I and Thou. Buber also identified the I and It relationship. And too much of our relating to the other happens in the form of the other as object.The “It” can be about things, possessions and the like. Our striving. We can, in fact, equate ourselves, our sense of self-worth, to how many things we have, or how much money we have to obtain those things we think are necessary for a happy life. Yes. But too often it’s also how we relate to other human beings. The blacks. The gays. The Muslims. The Jews. The homeless. It’s not always bad. The motives don’t have to necessarily be bad.Well-meaning people have often been moved to say, “We need to help those people.” “Let’s do outreach to them.” “They need us.” “It is I, here to help!” It starts out innocently enough, with no malicious intent. But the frustrations of those being “helped” can rise and rise. Finally, the question our allies ask: “Is it better to be ignored or to be helped?”In his Letter from Birmingham Jail, Martin Luther King, Jr., wrote“I have almost reached the regrettable conclusion that [our] greatest stumbling block in [the] stride toward freedom is not the White Citizen’s Counciler or the Ku Klux Klanner, but the white moderate,” our friend until trouble arises and then they become “more devoted to “order” than to justice…” Then where are our friends?[4]When questioned, however, goodhearted, sincere people have often felt hurt by what feels like rejection. But it only happens when first we, perhaps unknowingly, relate to others as “It” instead of “Thou.” Lila Watson, an Australian aboriginal woman, once famously said: “If you have come here to help me, you are wasting your time. [Go home.] But if you have come because your liberation is bound up with mine, then let us work together.”[5]Knock knock. Who is it? It is I. Knock knock. Who is it? It is I. Knock knock. Who is it? It is I. Knock knock. Who is it…? It is Thou.You may enter now.A story of personal connection from Roshan Kalantar[6]

[1] An original tale, “The Castle Door,” in Doorways to the Soul: 52 Wisdom Tales from Around the World, edited by Elisa Davy Pearmain, Pilgrim Press, 1998, page 56. The use of the ideas such as princes and castles and so forth almost caused me to pass on this story, but its overall message is worth it. I changed language about the object of the prince’s interest to non-gender specific.

[5] This quote has served as a motto for many activist groups in Australia and elsewhere. A possible origin for the quote is a speech given by Watson at the 1985 United Nations Decade for Women Conference in Nairobi. Watson has said of this quote that she was "not comfortable being credited for something that had been born of a collective process" and prefers that it be credited to "Aboriginal activists group, Queensland, 1970s."

[6] Each week this summer someone from the congregation will offer a story of personal connection to the wisdom story that week. If you’d like to be considered, ask for a copy of the book and let me know which stories you could tell a story from your own life.